


Young man full of big plans

by biblionerd07



Series: Acre of Land [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kind of sad but not really angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Sam goes back to Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can tell Sam's itching to go back to school, and even though he knows it's what Sam needs to do, he's sad about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young man full of big plans

**Author's Note:**

> At this point, I have my doubts that Sam would go back to school, and especially go back to Stanford. But I'm getting flashes of plot for this little verse? So to Stanford Sam will go. Title from Ray Lamontagne's "Beg, Steal, or Borrow."

Sam is going to leave. Dean can feel it, hanging in the air like a thunderstorm. Sam's gearing up to go and Dean can't think of a damn reason to make him stay except that Dean doesn't want him to go.

Finally Dean can't take the heavy silence between them anymore and seeks Sam out. (Dean's come a long way.) Sam's outside, flopped on the ground beneath a shady tree, reading a book and taking big chomps from an apple. The sun's falling golden around him and Sam looks otherworldly and Dean has to look away for a second because now he knows what he's going to say, knows he can't dim that light around Sam.

“So.” Dean starts, hands in his pockets.

“Hmm?” Sam asks absently, not even looking up from his book. Dean cranes his head around to catch sight of the title— _Sisters: the Lives of America's Suffragettes_. Dean rolls his eyes heavenward because Sam is such a nerd. Dean kicks lightly at his little brother's boat-sized foot, splayed in front of the giant like he's an overgrown seven-year-old.

“What?” Sam looks up now, grumpy at the intrusion, but his face changes when he sees the seriousness in Dean's eyes. “What's going on?” He's slightly wary now.

“You're, uh...” Dean clears his throat. “You're leaving.” Dean winces a little as he says it. It sounds more like he's kicking Sam out than asking him about his plans. Sam seems to agree.

“What?” He repeats, this time confused. “You want me to leave?”

“Of course I don't.” Dean says gruffly. “I meant—I can tell. I can tell you want to. You're going to.”

Sam licks his bottom lip and looks down at the book in his lap. “I was thinking about it.” He admits quietly. Dean takes a deep breath.

“You should.” It's probably one of the hardest things Dean's ever said. He forces it out through barely-opened lips. “Finish school. Become a big-shot lawyer so you can keep me outta jail.”

Sam studies Dean's face for a minute. “You'd be okay with that?” He asks carefully. Dean can't blame him for his hesitation. The last time Sam had told Dean he was going to college, Dean had thrown a book of lore at him. A heavy one.

“It's what you've always wanted. I held you back before.” They're quiet again. “I'd be proud of you.” He practically whispers the last part, because it's a feelings admission. Sam grins.

“What was that? I couldn't quiet hear you.” He teases, then turns somber again. “I was thinking, you know, University of Kansas is in Lawrence. I could go there. They have a law school, too. It's only like four hours away.”

_Lawrence_. It's always held such significance in their lives. It almost seems fitting. Except Sam was going to Stanford before. Dean doesn't know much about college and even less about law school, but he knows you don't just turn up your nose at Stanford.

“What about Stanford?” He asks, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He'd sure feel a lot more comfortable with Sam in the same state, but he knows Sam has ambitions, big plans that might not pan out if he stays in the middle of nowhere. Sam shrugs.

“No guarantee I'd get in again.”

Dean snorts. “Right. Because you haven't been using that brain of yours all this time. You've let it rot into nothing. You're an idiot now.”

“A little heavy on the sarcasm.” Sam critiques. He pulls up a handful of grass. “California's pretty far away.” His voice is small and Dean feels a rush in his chest—a little heart-sick, because he's tugged Sam back into their vortex of codependency, but gratitude and warmth and love. Somehow knowing Sam would miss him makes Dean's decision easier.

“Sam. You're a genius. Don't give up Stanford because I'm a big baby.”

Sam laughs. “We'll see, Dean, okay? I'll send out some applications and we'll see.”

Dean walks away knowing with an intense surety that Sam will go to Stanford. He glances up and sees Cas with his face pressed against the window. He flies back from the window when he sees he's been caught and when Dean gets back inside Cas pretends he wasn't watching the whole thing unfold. Dean laughs and turns the book Cas is holding so it's not upside-down. Cas blinks and smiles sheepishly and Dean can't help but kiss him.

  


Sam gets accepted, of course. Charlie fixed up Sam and Dean's records so that they're no longer dead nor wanted and makes an identity for Castiel Singer— _part of the family but not by blood_ , Cas explains when Dean asks why Singer instead of Winchester, though Dean thinks if you measured blood-family by the amount of blood _spilled_ for one another Cas certainly qualifies. Sam has to finish one last semester for his bachelor's degree, since everything with Dean showing up and losing Jess had happened before his finals. He spends the summer packing and fretting and changing his mind several times, but in the end, he drives away with a few boxes of books and clothes and Ruby's demon knife and a few gallons of holy water and a mini-arsenal, dripping earnest promises to call when he stops for the night and again when he gets to California and then at least once a week once school starts.

Dean stays outside a long time after watching Sam leave, and Cas leaves him to his thoughts. But after an hour, Cas comes out and sits beside him against the concrete wall, running a hand through the gravel to send rocks tumbling into one another. The sun is high and hot and it's muggy, but Dean can't bring himself to go inside yet, can't walk past Sam's stripped-bare mattress and empty walls. Cas just sits there with him quietly, leaning their shoulders together. Eventually Dean eases his way down to drop his head into the crook of Cas's neck and breathes against his skin, and Cas's arm comes around Dean steady and strong and Dean feels like if he can just rest there for a minute he'll be strong enough to face his life with Sam far away.

  


Sam calls to check in after his first week of classes, and his voice sounds heavy and sad in a way Dean hasn't heard it in a while. He waits to see if Sam will bring it up, but when he still hasn't after Cas talks to him and then leaves the room, Dean asks him what's wrong. Sam sighs, a crackle in Dean's ear.

“It's just...weird. Being here.” Sam says.

“You don't like it?” Dean asks, trying to gauge his voice and make sure he doesn't sound vindicated. He's not happy Sam's unhappy—truthfully, he isn't. But if _Sam_ thinks he is, Sam will hear it in his voice.

“I like my classes.” Sam says slowly. “But...well, I don't think I can really, um, relate to anyone here.” He huffs out a sad little laugh. “If nothing else, I'm way older than most of them. And they're inviting me to study groups and I'm just wondering who's a shifter, who's possessed.”

Dean winces. It's hard not to feel set apart from everyone else when you're surrounded by people who aren't hunters—people who don't know what's hiding in the woods, normal people. He's felt it his whole life. Sam had always tried so hard to fit in, to pretend he was normal, and Dean aches for his little brother, so far away and feeling all alone.

“Well.” He says. “Wear a silver ring and shake everyone's hand. That'll help.” He smiles when Sam laughs.

“There's this girl who keeps inviting me to coffee.” He admits.

“She cute?”

“Yeah. But...” He sighs again. “It's also weird being here without Jess.”

Dean doesn't know how to tackle that one. He hadn't known Jess, though he's sure she was smart and funny and caring, if Sam had loved her.

“I'm not saying I'm seeing her everywhere like I used to.” Sam continues. “It's been a long time. But I've never tried to date in the same town Jess and I were in, you know? Like this girl asked me to go get coffee with her at the place I met Jess. It just feels wrong.” There's a somber silence on the line and then Sam says, in a small voice that brings to Dean's mind a slightly-chubby twelve-year-old who'd just been turned down when he asked a girl to go to the school dance with him,

“Maybe I should just come home.”

Dean has to suck in a little breath at that. Part of him is screaming _yes, come home_ , but the responsible big-brother part of him, luckily, takes over.

“Sammy.” He says gently, just like he did with the little, brokenhearted version. “You can't give up. You're meant to be all titled and admired and everything. Okay? It'll get better. Besides,” Dean clears his throat to get his emotions out. “You can't get your fill of nerd here.”

Sam chuckles a little and Dean can hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks, Dean.” Dean's heart hurts, because how many times have they had conversations like this? Sam's been determined his whole life, but he's also always worn his heart on his sleeve and more times than not, it had gotten him hurt. Dean had always been there to pick up the pieces. His breath is hitching a little when he hangs up, but that's all—not a single tear. He bows his head a little for a minute.

He doesn't even jump when he feels arms wrap around his waist and a chin fitting on top of his shoulder. He drops his hands to cover Cas's and leans his head against Cas's.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi.” Cas responds. Dean can feel the rumble of Cas's voice against his back from where Cas's chest is pressed against him. “Did you figure out what was wrong with Sam?” Dean knows he could just say no and not elaborate and Cas won't push it.

“He's lonely.” Dean says. He feels Cas frown against his face. “It's hard sometimes, being around normal people.”

Cas hums in understanding. “He feels outside of them.”

“I always had a hard time making real friends in school.” Dean admits. “It's hard to care about a high school dance when you know there's a werewolf two towns over.”

“Sam will adapt.” Cas says confidently. Dean nods his agreement. “But I wish he didn't feel badly now.” Cas adds, and Dean smiles because he knows Cas really means it and will probably pray for Sam tonight in bed, silently, when he thinks Dean's already asleep.

“He'll be okay.” Dean agrees. Cas is swaying a little, taking Dean with him.

“Will you?” Cas asks.

Dean takes stock of himself. He misses his brother, but he gets to hear his voice whenever he wants. He's currently wrapped up in Cas's arms, listening to Cas hum kind of tunelessly. In an hour or so, Dean will go to his own kitchen and cook dinner for them, and then he and Cas will stand shoulder to shoulder and do the dishes together and talk quietly and laugh and probably splash one another. They'll end up making out like teenagers in front of the TV, and then they'll share a popsicle, the fruit kind that stains Cas's tongue bright green and doesn't taste even remotely like a real fruit, which Cas will point out at least twice while eating his half and part of Dean's. And then they'll go to bed and Dean will sleep beside the person he never thought he'd get to keep, and Cas will drool on the pillow and Dean will take a picture and send it to Sam and ask his opinion on what the shape looks like. And then tomorrow they will wake up and go grocery shopping and Dean will get Sam's favorite granola out of habit and Cas will argue about sweet potatoes versus yams and they'll forget to buy mustard, like they've forgotten the last three times, and Dean will say it was Cas's fault and Cas will retort that he doesn't like mustard so it's not _his_ responsibility and Dean should have made a list, and they'll get burgers on the way back and steal each other's fries and play footsie under the table.

“Yeah.” Dean whispers against Cas's stubbly cheek, a soft smile sliding across his face. “I'm doing alright.”


End file.
